My voice is but the sound
of a poem in waiting.
I am the girl vocalizing
love to proud clams wanting
mechanical ***.
I am the pearlescent
sheen of meat
inside of him. I am not
a pain body. I am
stenographing all 5
skandas as Russian dolls.
Bliss does not decide
where I chose to reside.
I have been called
mighty in reference
to someone I have not met.
I will meet myself one day.

Sara Fielder © June 2018